It has been too long since I have written in this space. A small litany of reasons may be found on our site, the chief of them being my Pilgrimage to England and Scotland, one aspect of which is the subject of this Ad Rem.
Thanks to the kind generosity of a couple from Alberta, Canada, Alan and Angela Goudman, I completed last week a ten-day pilgrimage to various points of interest in England and Scotland.
While Angela is a native Canadian, Alan hails from England (born in Brighton, grew up in Stafford). Alan wanted me to make the trip because, as he said, when he converted to the Catholic Faith from being a Jehovah’s Witness some twenty years ago, reading Catholicism.org was one of the causes of his conversion. He wanted to pay a “debt of gratitude,” as he said, by taking me on a pilgrimage to his native land so that we could together experience the Catholic bones of Our Lady’s Dowry which we all very much hope will one day live again (cf. Ezechiel 37:3).
With the Goudmans, two others, and myself, we were a party of five, a fistful of pilgrims. One of those others in our merry band was none other than Charles Coulombe, to whom Alan also very much feels indebted for causing his conversion thanks to his writings. Charles’ presence was of immense practical value because, as an historian, he knew quite a bit about the destinations we were visiting.
Included in our itinerary were numerous points of Catholic interest — churches, abbeys, and such, many presently in the hands of the schismatic sect that seized Catholic properties after the defection of Henry VIII — and a few of Arthurian interest, including Arthur’s putative birth place in the Duchy of Cornwall, Tintagel Castle, and the spot where he and Guinevere were buried, Glastonbury Abbey. That some places of Arthurian interest are also places of Catholic interest is no accident. As Charles himself wrote in “Defending Camelot,”
The Arthurian legend, despite attempts to use it for other purposes, is a parable of a militant Catholicism that saved Western civilisation from the Turks and Tartars, and carried it and more importantly the Faith that built it across the globe.
One locus of both Catholic and Arthurian quest is the celebrated abbey mentioned above, which was also the final resting place of Arthur’s and Guinevere’s mortal remains. To it I now turn our attention.
There are legends — perhaps true — that associate ancient Glastonbury with Saint Joseph of Arimathea, who first brought Christianity to England. He may have come, in part, because of the tin that was mined in ancient Albion. (It is known that the Romans traded with the Britons for the stuff.)
William Blake’s poem, “Jerusalem,” opens with a reference to the tradition that Jesus Himself accompanied Joseph of Arimathea, who was, as the legend goes, His uncle (or great uncle):
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!
It is said that, when he came to evangelize England, Saint Joseph of Arimathea went to Wearyall Hill and, weary from the journey (hence the name), struck his walking staff in the ground, where it instantly blossomed and became the mythical “Holy Thorn of Glastonbury,” whence many cuttings were taken over the years and planted in various places around Glastonbury. These still bloom at Christmas and Easter, which is unique to this kind of thorn. In a custom dating back a century, a sprig of one of these trees is cut at Christmas and sent to adorn the table of the reigning monarch for the Feast of the Nativity. Thank God the cuttings were made, because the Puritans hewed down the original on Wearyall Hill because it was too “popish.” I myself saw one of the ancestors of this poor victim of puritanical arboricide gloriously in full bloom on the grounds of the ruined abbey.
One of the traditions of the abbey is that, in the old Celtic days before the arrival of the Angles and Saxons, the Christian solitaries who lived there chose Saint Patrick as their abbot (yes, that Saint Patrick), which explains the presence of an early sixteenth-century Chapel dedicated to Saint Patrick on the abbey grounds. The great Apostle of Ireland is said by some to be buried there, which every pious Irishmen knows cannot be true because, after all, their Apostle is buried at Downpatrick! Be that as it may, while I was pondering the connection of Saint Patrick to Glastonbury, I recalled that the feast-day of Saint Joseph of Arimathea is March 17, the same as that of Saint Patrick. (The fact that Saint Joseph is the patron saint of undertakers, for obvious reasons, led a friend of ours to cultivate the odd and singular custom of wearing black on that day, mostly to poke fun at his Irish friends and in-laws donned in green. One would have to know Russell to understand that this is not malice, but his quirky sense of humor.)
In the legends, Saint Joseph is connected to the grail and therefore to the later grail quest of Arthur, who is, in one account, the descendent of Saint Longinus and the daughter of Joseph of Arimathea.
The connection of Glastonbury to King Arthur is not as tenuous as some modern skeptics would make it out to be. The highly respected Arthurian historian, Geoffrey Ashe, identified Glastonbury with the legendary “Isle of Avalon” of the Arthurian legends (see King Arthur’s Avalon: The Story of Glastonbury). In the old days, before drainage canals were put there, the area around the Tor flooded, leaving the Tor to appear as an island from a distance. One of our number on the trip told us about a visit he made to Glastonbury years ago, when the modern drainage canals did not keep up with the rain, and the appearance of an island was briefly renewed.
More clearly documented than its Celtic history or Saint Joseph’s visits there is Glastonbury’s history as the site of a famous Benedictine abbey dating from Anglo-Saxon times. Of the celebrated Glastonbury Abbey, Wikipedia tells us,
The abbey was founded in the 8th century and enlarged in the 10th. It was destroyed by a major fire in 1184, but subsequently rebuilt and by the 14th century was one of the richest and most powerful monasteries in England. The abbey controlled large tracts of the surrounding land and was instrumental in major drainage projects on the Somerset Levels. The abbey was suppressed during the Dissolution of the Monasteries under King Henry VIII of England. The last abbot, Richard Whiting (Whyting), was hanged, drawn and quartered as a traitor on Glastonbury Tor in 1539.
From at least the 12th century, the Glastonbury area has been associated with the legend of King Arthur, a connection promoted by medieval monks who asserted that Glastonbury was Avalon. Christian legends have claimed that the abbey was founded by Joseph of Arimathea in the 1st century.
One of Glastonbury’s great notables was Saint Dunstan (909-988), of whom we read that he “was successively Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, Bishop of Worcester, Bishop of London and Archbishop of Canterbury.” This great monastic reformer did much to rebuild monasticism in England after it had suffered the ravages of Viking invasion. His time on the Continent — whither he was briefly exiled due to the political vicissitudes of the day — exposed him to the Cluniac Reform, whose strict monastic ideals he implemented in his homeland upon his return to England.
Other notables from the abbey — each of whom later became a bishop or archbishop — are Henry of Blois, Henry de Sully, and Savaric FitzGeldewin. None of these men have been canonized, but one of their earlier confreres is enrolled in the list of the saints: Saint Neot, a onetime simple monk of Glastonbury, who later became a hermit and then — per the directions of the Pope — the founder of a monastery in Cornwall.
In more recent times — indeed, at the end of its life as a Catholic Monastery — Glastonbury gave us other saints, or, in this case, blesseds: Blessed Richard Whiting (Abbot), Blessed Roger James (sacristan and the youngest member of the community), and Blessed John Thorne (treasurer), were monks of Glastonbury at the time of Henry VIII’s defection from the Church and his subsequent Dissolution of the Monasteries. Blessed Richard Whiting was Glastonbury’s last abbot (for now, anyway), who, along with his companions, was brutally martyred by the rebels who usurped ecclesiastical titles and properties.
Before proceeding with the tale of these three martyrs, a word about the infamous “Dissolution of the Monasteries” is in order. Touring the museum on the grounds of the abbey, our group of pilgrims was viewing the displays there, the accompanying texts of which are now much more honest than the previous custodians of these stolen properties tended to be. Here I reproduce the text from a photo I took of one of these displays:
The Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1539 was part of Henry VIII’s plan to bring the church and much of its wealth under government control. It suddenly ended over a thousand years of Christian worship at Glastonbury Abbey.
Most religious houses surrendered to the King but Abbot Richard Whiting refused to give up Glastonbury Abbey. The King’s agent came here in September 1539 to find evidence of his treasonable behaviour. Richard Whiting was arrested, charged with treason and burglary and later executed with two of his monks on Glastonbury Tor.
The abbey buildings were stripped of anything that could be sold: lead, glass, dressed stone, bells, ironwork and sculpture. The valuable library was destroyed and only about forty volumes are known to have survived. The abbey continued to be ruined in the following years as stone was taken and used for building and roadways but the Lady Chapel survived.
In 1547 the ruined abbey was granted to Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset who settled a colony of Dutch weavers here but the site was reclaimed by the Crown in 1551. During the Catholic Mary Tudor’s reign it was hoped that the monastery would be restored but the succession of the Protestant Elizabeth I prevented this.
In 1559 the abbey was granted to Sir Peter Carew and it remained in private ownership until the early twentieth century.
The Abbot’s Kitchen was the only building to remain complete and it was used as a Quakers’ Meeting House in the 1680’s. In the later 1700’s John Down, a tenant and mayor of Glastonbury, dislodged more stones with gunpowder and used the site as a quarry.
In the 1800’s there was a new interest in the medieval period and the Arthurian legend, with which Glastonbury was linked. Historical and archeological studies of the abbey began and there was a growing interest in the abbey ruins.
Nothing particularly exculpatory there! The Dissolution of the Monasteries was a real criminal enterprise of property theft on a grand scale.
To complete the account of the three martyrs, they were beatified by Pope Leo XIII for their heroic witness. Attempts were made to find Blessed Richard guilty of corruption for financial mismanagement, but when Henry’s auditor looked at the abbey’s books, to his chagrin, everything was in perfect order. Nonetheless, the bogus charges mentioned above were trumped up, and, without a proper trial, the three were dragged by horses up to the top of Glastonbury Tor and hung from the bell tower of Saint Michael’s Church, which tower still exists as the only remnant of the otherwise destroyed church. They were cut down before dying to have their agony prolonged by being drawn and quartered, their body parts then being boiled in pitch and then sent to various parts of the country to terrorize the faithful into submission. Blessed Richard Whiting’s head was impaled over the gate of what was once his abbey.
The plunder, frankly narrated by the present custodians of the site, started soon thereafter, and the abbey was despoiled of everything of value. What remains today are only the ruins of the Lady Chapel (hauntingly beautiful) and the Abbot’s Kitchen, where the Abbot, so as not to disturb the life of the monastic community, would entertain dignitaries who came to call on him. The Abbot was, after all, a member of the House of Lords, and an important part of the social and political life of the realm.
In one of his books, the aforementioned Goeffrey Ashe quoted Austin Ringwode, the last surviving monk of Glastonbury, who made this prediction (prophecy?) about Glastonbury: “The Abbey will one day be restored and rebuilt for the like worship which has ceased, and peace and plenty will for a long time abound.”
May God speed that blessed day!
Meantime, Glastonbury has become a den of iniquity. It hosts an annual music festival of the sort that I am sure my readers would not be interested in attending. Moreover, given its association with pre-Anglo-Saxon, and even pre-Christian “Celtic spirituality,” there are many neo-pagan “religious seekers” who flock there to don strange vesture, smoke lots of pot, and achieve “enlightenment” of a sort. Stores along the main street near the site of the ruined abbey — one of which is, in fact, called “Enlightenment” — offer various accoutrements to those whose religious preferences include witchcraft and other “alternative spiritualties.” The heavy and strong smells of patchouli and cannabis (a sickening combination!) waft into one’s nostrils here and there.
As we walked around Glastonbury, Charles Coulombe adapted the quote attributed to P. T. Barnum, noting that, “There’s a seeker born every minute.”
My religious habit drew the attention of many of these “seekers,” some of whom did not understand its meaning. Twice, I was mistaken for a Druid (Yes! A Druid with a Rosary hanging from his belt and a blazon of the Immaculate Heart on his chest!). One gentleman, who was with a group of street musicians, asked me if I wanted enlightenment. I told him that I am Catholic and I have the sacraments, by which I have all the enlightenment I need.
The saddest glimpse at the “seekers” of Glastonbury came during our trek up the Tor to reverence the spot where Blessed Richard, Roger, and John suffered martyrdom. As I approached the top and glimpsed the Saint Michael’s Tower reigning over Glastonbury, my ears heard the unmistakable sounds of a bongo drum, then my eyes beheld a small disco ball hung from one of its gothic arches, and, underneath, some pot-smoking folks enjoying themselves to the beat of the drums (that smell again!).
Our party walked over to another part of the Tor and prayed a decade of the Rosary for the conversion of England.
That was a perfect snapshot of the tragedy that is post-Catholic England: stoned neo-pagans dancing on the ruins of a centuries-old sacred site that had been bedewed with the blood of Catholic martyrs. Then again, such is not unique to England. Nor is it without hope. Genuine seekers who read the history of the place, seek the truth, and desire genuine enlightenment are only a few prayers away from finding what they seek in the Catholic Church.
May merry old England revive and recapture her glorious title as “Mary’s Dowry.”
